Page 16 of The Witching Hours

After brewing a nice echinacea tea with extra honey, she made herself at home in Steve’s study to begin finalizing their life change. Job hunt. House hunt. The burden of urgency had been lifted, but the practical aspects of structuring a life are persistently demanding.

The online classifieds revealed no jobs in the area that remotely spoke to her skill set. Not to mention the fact that she needed something more than minimum wage. The adjacent column happened to feature businesses for sale. Still riding a streak of good fortune, something there caught her eye.The Litchfield County Gazette, a weekly newspaper published in New Milford, was for sale at a price she might just be able to swing. She didn’t know how to publish a local paper or run the underlying business, but her mom had always said life is for learning.

Butterflies danced in her stomach as she picked up the phone and called. She took that excitement as a sign that she really wanted the lark to turn into something workable.

TheGazettehad been a family enterprise for a couple of generations. Though proud of the paper’s history, the present generation was ready to let it go. The woman she spoke with was direct and forthcoming. The family was more interested in continuation without interruption than making a killing on the sale. The price included the building on Main Street which housed theGazetteon the ground floor and housing on the second floor. Three small bedrooms, two baths, kitchen, dining, and living rooms. It certainly couldn’t be compared to the sprawling estate they had, but it could work. And she loved the idea of owning instead of renting.

The owners invited her to come for a tour after lunch.

Brigid knew it would be unorthodox to raise a family in the center of town. On the other hand, there was a lot to be said for a single mom being able to work and live at the same location. Perhaps the piece de resistance was that Grace lived in New Milford. Being in the same town as her sister would be a gift heaven sent.

The minute she had that thought she wondered if she was receiving some divine assistance. Like balancing the seesaw. But she brushed that idea away as quickly as it presented itself. After all, her problems were miniscule compared to Middle East wars.

She arranged for the boys to stay with Grace so that she could meet with theGazetteowners that afternoon. Grace was delirious with excitement.

“Don’t you dare leak to the boys,” Brigid had told her. “It’s not a done deal.”

Grace was nodding while doing a modified Snoopy dance. “Oh. I know. Of course. You can trust me.” She let out ahigh-pitched squeal that only dogs and Brigid could hear. “But wouldn’t it be great?”

“Yes.” Brigid smiled. “It would be an adjustment for us, but hopefully it’ll be great when the dust settles.” She made her face look stern. “But I mean it about the leaking. I need to think hard about how to break the news.”

“Got it.” She made the Girl Scout promise signal. “Promise.”

After getting the VIP tour of theGazetteand the empty apartment upstairs, Brigid was ready to sign. They assured her that they would supervise until she felt confident about every aspect of the business.

TheGazetteliving quarters were desperately in need of updating, but Brigid got the impression she could negotiate funds for that before the contract was drawn up. She’d have some hard decisions to make about what furnishings to keep. The expensive stuff would look out of place in a modest flat, but so what? First world problem.

There were three thousand readers between the actual free paper and the online presence. Looking over the books, Brigid was able to see that the former owners had made enough on advertising to maintain utilities and upkeep on the building, with payouts for printing, a modest salary for the paper’s part time reporter, and commissions to the sales and marketing guy, whom they called Dave, who was actually a relative of the former owners. He was the sort who knew everybody in the county and was very effective at selling ads. The former owner said Dave loved his job and thought of it as a lifetime appointment.

The bottom line was that she and the boys would be okay even after self-insuring when Promontory stopped paying their policy.

When she picked the boys up, Grace pulled her into the other room and whispered, “Well?”

Brigid grinned and felt almost giddy in a way she’d thought could never happen as a widow. She nodded. “I’m doing it.” Grace bit her fist to keep from squealing in that endearing, but obnoxious way of hers. “Now I just have to get my kids to get on board and not hate me.”

“They’re rough and tumble boys,” Grace said, “but they’re also good kids. It might take a minute, but they’ll adjust. Kids are better at that than you think.”

“Hope so.”

In a rare moment of quiet that afternoon, it occurred to Brigid that, once she’d made up her mind to confront reality, things had fallen into place in ways that made her think she had a guardian angel. Not the Amon kind. The other kind who didn’t want one of her sons in payment. That was what she was thinking when she heard scratching at the front door. She knew who it was, knew he could ring the doorbell like anybody else, but apparently went with scratching for drama’s sake. If he’d intended to make the hair stand up on the back of her neck, he’d succeeded.

“Good afternoon, Amon,” she said standing in the doorway. He gave her a knowing smile in return. “There’s no need to come in. The answer’s no.”

He was no longer smiling when he reached out and stopped the progress of the closing door. “Surprising, Mrs. Carmady, I must admit. Are you very certain? This is not a decision that can be undone. Once I’m gone, I’m gone. For good.”

“Like the Cadbury bunny,” she deadpanned. “I know. I’ve evaluated your offer and made my choice. Good day.”

Closing the door in the demon’s face was even more satisfying than she’d anticipated. She stood staring at the door’s wood grain for a few minutes. It wasn’t that she had doubts. She didn’t. It was that she hoped she’d seen the last of Amon.

After checking the peephole to be sure he was gone, she went straight to the study and called Promontory.

“Brigid,” Glen said drily, “I hadn’t expected to hear from you again so soon.”

“Right. Well. I’m buying a life insurance policy for myself.” She’d learned something valuable from Steve’s oversight. “I’ll buy it from Promontory so long as Steve’s account gets credit for the sale and the proceeds render commissions for his kids. If we can’t work that out, I’ll go elsewhere.”

After a brief silence Glen cleared his throat then sighed. “What size policy are you thinking?”

She hadn’t considered that. It would come down to what she could afford. After a few more minutes of back-and-forth discussion on quarterly premiums, she settled on a million-dollar policy. Since Brigid was still in her early thirties with a sparkling clean health record, she could manage the payments until Kenny was college age. Glen said he’d send the papers over for her to sign.

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